


Drift Wood

by desertvvitch



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bisexual!Abby, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Lesbian Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, Fix-It, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Joel lives bc he deserves some good things, Lesbian Character, Multi, Older Man/Younger Woman, On Hiatus, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Apocalypse, The Last of Us Part 2 spoilers, because im a SLUT for bisexual Abby, main focus is on part 2 because joel deserves better my dude, mild dina/ellie tbh but it'll be there every so often, only by like twelve years but oop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:41:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25121806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desertvvitch/pseuds/desertvvitch
Summary: "Where is Joel Miller?" the woman - Abby, how could she forget that - demanded, taking the knife and digging it into her fleshy thigh."He'sdead." Abby twisted the knife, and she could only scream and writhe in pain as she continued to be held down and against the cold window of the Baldwin's house."Don'tlieto me."
Relationships: Abby(The Last of Us)/Original Female Character(s), Dina/Ellie (The Last of Us), Joel (The Last of Us)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 68





	1. Maker of Life/Bringer of Death

**Author's Note:**

> So.  
> I have two other stories that I'm working on and I have decided that. You know. _Why the fuck not and post another story_.  
> I had fallen in absolute love with The Last of Us when it came out, and when I played Part 2 I cried because it was such a beautiful story and I even got Ellie's tattoo on my forearm as of yesterday (7/7/2020, just in case) because I relate so heavily with Ellie in a lot of points.  
>  ~~(If someone came and killed my father like that in front of me, I would actually kill everyone involved in such a thing soooooo)~~  
>  I'm doing something different with this story, and I'm gonna try and focus heavily on Part 2 and take what I felt they did wrong and doing it in a way that I feel would have flowed so much better. Also, Joel lives because i love Joel and he deserves love.  
> Also when I find a new interest in something, I can't help but make a few OC's so if this isn't something you like, I'm sorry. But actually not.  
> I hope this is okay, I'm gonna go work on my RDR2 story now because I need to.

**FALL 2037**

Her office smells like citrus and chamomile tea, something so floral and fragrant that leaves Joel with the willingness to take his time. He's sure he smells like wood smoke and musk from the hunt he and Tommy just got back from, but he didn't mind the fact that he looked like shit, let alone felt like shit.

He stepped into her office doorway, knocking softly on the door frame. The rap of his knuckles is a dead giveaway for her, and all he could hear was her softening laugh as she turned from her desk.

"Back already? Catch anything good?"

"Oh, just the usual rabbits and a few deer." he lets himself cave into the warm air of relaxation as he makes a slow stride to the plush sofa that sits across from her desk. “One of the boys caught some pheasant and turkey.” She hums, her eyes gazing over his body to make sure he was still in relatively one piece.

"Would you like some tea?"

"Sure."

Its half past ten, he knows that being up this late will get him in trouble with Maria, but if it means he gets to see Abigail before she leaves for bed, he doesn't mind.

"Hopefully, this will warm you up." she drops a spoonful of crystallized honey - something he brought back for her when she and him talked about the good days before the outbreak. There's an orange peel in the mug she gives him and when he takes a sip, he feels the burn and warmth of whiskey at the back of his tongue.

"Drinking on the job I see."

"Never knew you'd criticize me for having a hot toddy every once in a while." he takes another sip.

The silence is soft, and he realizes that's she got a record playing lowly under the windowsill. The Beatles, from what he can tell but he not entirely sure with how his hearing has been lately.

He continues to sip his spiked tea, enjoying the sweetness of the honey with the spice of the whiskey. It's new and inviting and he thinks of ways to pay her back for these late-night catch ups.

He speaks up first, nervousness edging his teeth. "What are you doing up this late?"

"I'm going over these lists Maria asked for. She was gonna hand them out to the scouts and patrols just in case they see anything."

"Are we runnin' low on supplies?"

"Not yet. Most of the stuff I need is single use sterile items, but I'm finding ways to re-sterilize items. Some things however can't be used more than once."

Silence falls over them again, and once she's done writing whatever she needs, she faces him with a smile gracing her lips and her crow’s feet crinkling just slightly.

"I don't know about you, but I'm done for the day."

"When's your next day off?" she hums in thought as she places their empty mugs in the sink.

"Three days, why's that?"

"Was thinking of going fishing, needed a partner." she gives him a look, her brows furrowed in confusion and worry.

"Ellie still not talking to you?"

He stays quiet, looking down from her soft yet pushy gaze. It's been two weeks since him and Ellie came back from Utah, and he was still devastated. She was valid in her words and her emotions, but there was still much for him to say.

The silence was still thick, but Abigail cut it up and threw it away with a sweet smile and a soft touch on his shoulder.

"Come on, let get you home, old man."

The two of them walk side by side out of the infirmary, the woman bidding the night shift nurses a goodnight before they were out under the starry sky with the full moon.

She links her hand into the crook of his elbow, her shoulders brushing against his bicep and her steps falling in rhythm of his own. Her smile glows along the dim streetlights, her voice is soft amongst the two as she talks about how one of the kids broke his wrist from falling of the monkey bars. She recounts the patrol team that came in after a rough day with their blood-soaked coats and split lips and torn skin.

“We lost a kid today.” She states as plain as day, but he hears the sorrow in her voice. She’s the one that has to prepare the funerals alongside Maria.

“I know.”

They stop outside of her home, her yard filled with hardy flowers that are only starting to wilt and certain herbs that she used in her cooking and craft teas. The porch swing was something that came with the home, and he remembers Abigail’s excitement when she came to his home with a pan filled with cookies and a mischievous smile.

_“In exchange for these cookies, do you think you could help with this porch swing?”_

Manual sanding, fresh paint and new rope and he found her the next morning relaxing with her cup of morning tea and a book on foraging – something that Tommy brought back for her after it caught her interest.

They stood outside; feet planted along the stone steps that lead up to the house. “Would you like to come in?” her brow was raised, a thumb pointing over her shoulder. “I want you to try something.”

It’s become a tradition for them; Joel walking her home when she takes on the late shifts with her arms laced within his own, her inviting him into her home and making him something warm to drink or eat while he winds down from his day of work. Her sweet laugh with her tooth rotting smile would encourage him to loosen up and melt underneath the caring gaze that only he seems to be graced with.

Lord, if Tommy saw him now, pining over a woman like he was in high school.

“Am I your guinea pig now?”

“I think you’d enjoy it, trust me.”

Her home smells earthy with a floral undertone, and he can’t help but inhale softly as he placed his rifle on his back by the doorway. There’s drying flowers and herbs hanging from twine above the island in her kitchen, small mason jars filled with rosemary, thyme and basil sitting on the windowsill above the sink.

He watches as she pulls jars from her cabinets, one labeled _‘dandelion root’_ and the other _‘chicory root’_ , her lettering stiff and sloppy but still just barely legible. There’s a sense of interest and confusion as Joel sits down and leans against the island as she starts to prepare her plug-in kettle.

“I know how much of a coffee man you are, but with the limited supply…”

Three spoonfuls of the chicory, and one of the dandelions with a dash of cinnamon that she had laying on the counter, and he listened as the kettle prepared to boil the water. The mesh strainer is placed in the kettle, and he watches the water change into a dark, rich color as she sheds her canvas and wool scarf.

The water bubbles as she offers to take his own coat, “Nah, I’m alrigh’.”

He watches the way her legs take soft strides through the open dining room – which was created into a reading nook with books piled high in corners and sturdy bookshelves lines with novels and references – he saw the strength and confidence she carried under the soft, navy blue cardigan.

He also saw the small Bersa 380 that sat in her holster that lined the small of her back. Joel followed the curve of her waist up and over the tension in between her shoulder blades, watching the way her black and curly strands of hair fell from the bun she had adjusted and readjusted throughout the day. Her golden beige skin, her dark, wavy curls, her rich brown eyes that seemed to crinkle with a smile.

His eyes flicked over the deft movements, watched as she pulled the small pistol with the holster from her back, disengaging it with relative ease before placing it on top of the shelf right back the door with the cartridge ejected and placed right next to it.

He jumped as the loud click and the dissipating of the boiling bubbles pulled him from his thoughts. The water is now a rich dark brown, and the smell was rather pleasant to the senses after a long day from behind the walls.

“I hope this comes out okay.” She makes quick strides to pull two mugs from the upper cabinet, pouring him a warm mug and placing it in front of him before pouring herself a cup.

“You’re not gonna poison me, are ya?” he chuckles as she watches him swirl the dark liquid in in his mug.

“Boy, I sure hope not.” She snorts, raising the cup to her lips but still keeping her eyes trained on him. He follows her lead, leading the steaming mug to his lips, sipping the drink softly and –

Joel looks down at the mug, then back at Abigail as if he just discovered gold.

“Does it taste like coffee?” she asks in a soft voice, taking a silent sip of her own. “See I don’t drink a lot of coffee, so I didn’t have any memories to compare the taste to.”

“How’d you figure this out?”

“Those foraging books that Tommy brought back for me, it told me I could use chicory and dandelion roots.”

He relished in the taste of it, the bitter taste with a hint of cinnamon. It was a little more earthy than real coffee, but there’s no mistake that this was the best substitute to coffee he’s had in a long while.

They surround the kitchen island, sipping their mugs of substitute coffee. The moon shined through the window behind Abigail, a halo of pale blue light outlining her body as she hummed and relished the warmth of the drink within her mug.

Joel clears his throat, finishes off his drink – though he wishes he could take his time, just a little bit longer – before standing from the stool and gently placing the mug within the sink. She perks up, placing the mug down and watching him stretch as he walked over to the front door.

“Leaving already?”

“Yeah,” his accent is thick with exhaustion, but his nerves are buzzing and his brain his racing with thoughts. “It’s late, and I’ve got guard duty in the morning.”

Her hum is like honey and apples – sweet and crisp and refreshing and enticing – but he simply sighs and reaches for his rifle as she stands by the door and waits for him.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in three days.” He looks at her in confusion, and she could only smile. “Fishing, remember?”

“Right.”

She opens the door for him, and they both stand within the open doorway with the soft breeze sending chills over their skin. Joel watches as she pulls the cardigan closer to her body as he thinks about staying; knowing full well that she would let him just like the other few times, but Lord knows he doesn’t want to push his luck with her.

But she sure as shit pushes her luck with him.

She presses a chaste kiss upon his lips, smiling briefly before pushing him out of her home.

“Three days. Early morning. Don’t forget, old man.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Goodnight, Joel.”

“Goodnight Abbie.”

He sleeps well that night; his arm stretched out to the side as if her head was laid perfectly against his bicep.

.-.-.

_SUMMER 2034_

_He was barely settling well within the walls of Jackson._

_He barely got along with the people unless he was on patrol with them – much to Tommy’s dismay, might he add – and it didn’t help that Ellie was just hitting that teenager phase with a bigger attitude problem then before._

_It was his day off and Tommy wanted to show him around, allow him to meet people – anyone really, at this point since all Joel really knew was his patrol partner, Tommy, Maria and Seth._

_“I want to introduce you to someone.”_

_“Tommy –,”_

_“She’s a nice girl, real smart –,”_

_“Tommy, not again.”_

_“C’mon, Joel.”_

_“Tommy, please.”_

_“Humor me.”_

_All he could do was groan, running his hand over his jaw before motioning Tommy to show him._

_The walk was short, they passed the small school that was being freshly painted and remodeled, they passed the bar that Seth ran which was bustling even in the bright afternoon when work was meant to and right across the way was the infirmary._

_Joel hoped that he wouldn’t have to ever see the doctors within the freshly built infirmary, but he knows people slip up and he’s bound to slip up one of these days._

_“Dr. Guerrero!” Tommy peaks in through several rooms, calling out with heavy formalities. The rooms still smelled like fresh paint, canvas cloth covered the hardwood flooring and empty paint cans were stacked by the front door for disposal._

_Tommy called out again, and the woman that he kept calling for peaked her head from behind a door frame in a cartoonish fashion._

_“What do you want, Tommy? Can’t you see I’m_ busy _.”_

_“Ah, I know you and the other nurses have been lookin’ forward to this new infirmary –,” She snorts, holding the brush between her fingers and tapping her foot impatiently._

_“That’s the understatement of the week.”_

_“But I wanted you to meet my brother.”_

_“Tommy, I swear. You gotta stop playing match maker like you’re actually good at it.” She flick wet paint at him in a playful huff before going back to the room she was working on. Joel couldn’t help but chuckle as his little brother smeared off-white paint over his cheeks._

_“She’s gotta a point, Tommy.”_

_“Oh, shut up.”_

_The two of them could hear her laughing at their brotherly bickering, before yelling at them to either help or get out of her infirmary._

_Joel decides to stay and help, knowing full well he had nothing better to do._

* * *

**FALL 2037**

She was just a damn cook.

She was also a damn good dog trainer, and a fine fucking teacher in hand to hand combat.

Hell, Abby could simply say that Caroline was what most would consider a 'Jack of all Trades' kind of person.

She was young and impressionable and rather fierce in her tactics in getting what she wanted. Her and Manny kicked it off without a problem, and she was sure he would have her in his bed befit the night ended and she would have to stay in the library once more.

But that didn't happen.

The Salt Lake crew was celebrating - minus Owen and Mel who had been called to the FOB for some business with Isaac. She didn't think too much of it because of she did, she'd let herself grow slightly jealous even though she'd been over him for more than a year.

Manny had managed to snag a few bottles of rum and whiskey, and Jordan was able to set up a small for pit outside of hers and Manny's area. The soft glow of the fire that flickered and mingled easily against the string lights that lit up most of the stadium left most of them in relative ease and without worry. There was no infected, no Seraphites, no patrols in the morning.

It was just them, a record player that spun music within the air, their alcohol filled bellies and the warmth of the fire against their sun-soaked skin.

"If this doesn't get you people in trouble, nothing will."

Caroline pushed through the door, a glass dish that was covered with a towel and multiple forks were held in her hands. She took quick strides over to the group who seemed to cheer and welcome her as the waft of food filled their senses.

"What's in the pan?"

"Something my momma taught me to make before she passed." she removed the towel to reveal fresh tamales smothered in sauce made from the chili peppers made in the community garden. "it’s the best I could do with what I had available."

" _Esto es increíble_ , how'd you manage to sneak this."

"The perks of only ever doing kitchen duty." Abby laughs as Caroline hands out the forks.

"You're the only person I know that enjoys kitchen duty."

"It's rewarding, knowing that people enjoy the food I make."

"When you’re not on kitchen duty, we all suffer."

They enjoy their meal, their alcohol, their company. The relish in the fact of living in the present, knowing they can worry about tomorrow when the time comes.

Abby watches Manny hit on Caroline, and she finds it amusing to watch Caroline play him like a fiddle and push back.

"Manny, why do you hit on me so much."

"Oh, come on. You know you want some fun."

"I don't swing that, Querido. I'm surprised you haven't figured that out."

He turns bright red and spews apologies in his native tongue, and Caroline laughs, a bit of pink dusting her freckled cheeks.

"Literally everyone knows, Manny." Nora calls out, laughing along with Jordan and Mike.

Abby catches Caroline's eyes, seeing the way she bites her bottom lip before stealing another bite of tamales from the glass pan. Abby watches the woman in front of her, a buzz running through her skin when those deep, umber brown eyes do a once over her body. Caroline hums when she takes her bite, does a little shimmy out of excitement. If it weren’t for her thoughts of consistent training and constant self-reminders of patrols or training in the morning, she’d call the young woman in front of her utterly cute.

Maybe even adorable.

Abby took a sip of her bottle, listening to the group converse over the licks of flames. She stayed silent, leaning her back against the large window of her shared room. There’s a hum of noise that takes over her head, drowning out the sound of Manny and Caroline singing an old Spanish folk song with Manny’s drunken tongue slurring over his words.

Soon enough, Nora guided Manny to his bed and Jordan and Mike made work of smothering the small fire. Abby found herself – tipsy and warm with a softening buzz thrumming against her skull – leaning against the railing, looking out over the softly lit stadium.

Abby considered herself average height; standing close to five foot nine but when Caroline stood next to her – her back facing the railing as she braced and jumped to sit on the metal bar – she felt talker than she really should.

It didn’t help that the woman was shorter than Nora; standing no taller than five foot.

She was cute, and rather petite with those freckles that dusted heavily over her cheeks and her shoulders and arms.

Abby would say Caroline was everyone’s dream girl within the FOB, though most didn’t know that she only liked women.

Hell, Abby could say that Caroline was _her_ dream girl.

“Hey, mind walking me to the kitchen?” her voice was as smooth as last remnants of rum within her hand, but her dark eyes held a spark she wasn’t sure she wanted to strike alit.

“Why?” Abby cringed at how snappy she sounds, taking one last swig of the bottle of rum.

“Well, because I wasn’t supposed to do what I did, and if I get caught…” she dragged out the last word, looking over at Nora trying to get Manny to brush his teeth and drink some water. “I have you to save me from getting into too much trouble. Besides,” she hops down from her spot, patting Abby’s shoulder softly, “I doubt you want to listen to Manny’s drunken snores all night.”

Abby thinks about it, placing the now empty bottle by the stairs leading down to the farming area. Caroline kneels down to grab all of the utensils and the glass Pyrex pan, humming the same tune that she was singing with Manny earlier.

“I guess that’s a valid reason.”

“Well, let’s go.”

Caroline bid a goodnight to those sober enough to say it even chuckling at Manny’s slurred goodnight in his native tongue, which she reciprocated.

The walk to the Dining Hall is short but filled with small talk that is as awkward the way Abby holds herself. She thinks hard on it, her head starting to throb from the alcohol in her body and the patrol that she came back from just that morning.

The two walk through the kitchen, Abby watching Caroline place the minimal dishes within the deep sink filled with other dishes and cold, soapy water.

She thinks back to the main reason why Caroline stays behind the walls of the Stadium as the smaller woman goes to pull out two clear cups to fill with water.

“Figured you’d need some after today.” She’s quiet, standing close enough for Abby to feel the heat radiating from her skin. “Heard you came in with a pretty bad head injury.”

“Yeah, Scars came out of nowhere and ambushed us on our way back.” Abby tries to keep herself from gulping the water but fails miserably.

“Well, I’m glad you came back in one piece.”

They stand like that for a while, alcohol seeping between their veins and their minds racing and silent all at the same time.

It wasn’t beyond Abby; her feelings towards women. When she got with Owen back in Salt Lake, she didn’t think about the other attractions that she could have and feel towards other people – both men and women – and after the death of her father, and the move from Utah to Washington, and the falling out and break up with Owen.

She knew that she felt some sort of attractions towards women, but never acted on them. Abby always felt that she other priorities to take care of.

Revenge, strengthening, growing.

She felt like she didn’t have time for all this romantic shit like Owen had involved himself in with Mel, and she definitely didn’t think she had the energy for any sexual relations like Manny had with… many women.

But as Caroline stood next to her, her shoulder bumping Abby’s bicep, Abby’s mind went blank. And when Caroline leaned her head onto Abby’s shoulder, her body grew hot and her fingers twitched.

Her empty cup was abandoned, and in the morning, she’d find a way to blame this moment on the alcohol and the headache and _possible_ concussion in the morning.

But in this moment?

She’d take what her body yearned for.

Abby leaned down and pressed her lips to Caroline’s, feeling the way the woman gasps against her lips before smiling and pressing into her just barely. There’s no hesitation, there’s no regrets, just want and need and a deep yearning for something.

They’re deal with the consequences in the morning… right?

Abby moves first, removing the glass from Caroline’s hands, placing it on the table they were leaning on, before lifting her by her hips and planting her on the table. A whine left the smaller woman’s throat, spurring Abby’s clouded mind to wrap her arms around her waist.

She’s barely had experience in kissing girls, at all if any, but Caroline guides her while making it seem that Abby has all the power over her.

Caroline runs her tongue over Abby’s bottom lip, and Abby replicates that movement. She opened up for her, digging her blunt nails into Abby’s biceps, grabbing at the shoulders of her muscle tee, running her hands over the larger woman’s rib cage and clawing at the skin beneath the thin fabric.

A breathy whimper leaves Caroline’s throat when Abby pulled her hips into her own; pulling her mouth from Abby’s. Their foreheads press together, hot breath mixing together as Abby digs her blunt fingers into the small of Caroline’s back.

“Callie.”

“Abby.”

“We should go to your room.”

“Are you gonna kiss me some more.”

“I might.” Caroline hums then giggles when Abby picks her up with effortless ease, walking out of the dining hall and up to her room.

.-.-.

_Fall 2034_

_Caroline had never been out on patrol before._

_She had done her damnedest to get out of doing those kinds of jobs, proving her worth is better within the safety of the stadium instead of someone behind the trigger of a gun._

_Most of her friends – ex-fireflies from the Salt Lake outpost – had been making a name for themselves. Owen, Manny, and Abby were incredible with their combat, Nora and Mel made a different in the survival rate for the WLF members with their medical knowledge._

_But Caroline was only good at the simple things. Cooking, cleaning, training. She wasn’t built for heavy firefights or combat with any kind of enemy surrounding the area._

_Being within the Humvee – even with Abby and Manny and Nora by her side and Owen driving up front with the dog, Sugar – she had a sense of disease deep in her stomach._

_Manny placed a hand on her knee, patting it in a comforting manner, “Everything will be just fine. We made that deal with those Scars remember?”_

_“Yeah, but anyone could be out here.”_

_“She has a point; we should be alert.” Owen called out, despite how relaxed he looked driving the military vehicle._

_“It’s a nice day, it’s only us out here, there isn’t anyone –,”_

_“Oh shit!” the car flipped, someone in a beat-up semi had rammed right into them throwing everyone in the back into the asphalt and the dirt. Trespassers started yelling, pulling Owen from the car and shooting the dog that was stuck between ground and the car._

_Ten trespassers flooded their vision – all of them men covered in mud and ripped clothes – most of them pinning down and beating the two men and pulling the women by their hair._

_Caroline was frozen, her fight or flight reacting in all the wrong ways as she thrashed her legs and screamed. Her nails dug deep into the man’s arm, leaving his blood staining her fingers as shots rang out from in front of her._

_Manny had managed to get the upper hand of the man beating him, and Owen had managed to take his knife and stab the man multiple times in the ribs before sinking it back into his opponents’ stomach._

_Nora’s already on her feet, her pistol drawn and several bullets shooting true into her victims._

_Abby had the man’s arms between her legs, a sickening pop echoing over the gun fight._

_Caroline continues to be dragged by her scalp; hair being torn and tangled into her assailants’ hands. She knows that she’s weak the moment that the man drops her hair and his body drops lifelessly into the hot asphalt._

_She left side is completely shredded and bloody, but she still stumbles and runs into the safety of her group. Her blood is rushing through her ears; she can barely hear their calls of worry._

_The gunshots that sounded so close to the FOB had other patrol cars driving to their point as Nora comforted and tried her best to treat Caroline’s wounds with the resources they had._

_Abby helped with getting the smaller woman into the back of the patrol car, wincing herself when she saw the blood seeped and oozed from the deep road rash that covered her left side and upper back._

_She didn’t even push her off when she leaned her head against her thigh and silently sobbed into her dirty pants._


	2. Fireflies/Wolves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruh, its five am where im at and I spent three hours writing this. Im going to bed.

**SPRING 2038**

It's early, the only people up are herself, those who work with the livestock and maybe Maria going over the plans for the day. Running a facility as rich with life requires action that can push someone over the edge.

She pulls herself from Joel's arms. Placing soft kisses along his temple, which he responds with sleepy mumbles and a childish smile. The pads of her fingers run over his unruly eyebrows, leading truth his temple before pushing his hair from his face, leaving once last kiss along his forehead before leaving the room to dress and prepare for breakfast.

Farm fresh eggs were a constant in the house, and since moving from her small home into Joel's during the winter, she's found herself more willing to provide.

It's weird and mother like but she doesn't kick the habit as she lights the stove and melted some butter over a flame.

She starts by toasting the bread she made fresh the day before, letting the butter soak into the slices and allowing a sizzle and the scent of smoke to travel.

She hears Joel before she sees him, with the way his boots scuff against the wood floors and his hands work on buckling his belt.

"Don't burn it."

"I'm not, I'm _toasting_." he chuckles and prepares the kettle for their morning faux coffee. She's gotten him hooked since the first night, leaving her to make him a thermos every morning for his patrols or early construction overlooks he does with Tommy.

"Of course." the sense of domesticity leaves butterflies in her stomach, knowing that this is as good as it gets when you’re with someone in times like today, but she's comfortable and satisfied with what she has.

She removes that toasted slices and cracks the two eggs into the pan, enjoying the way Joel's arm wraps around her shoulder to pull her into a hug. She chuckles, something soft and low that reverbs through his chest, "Joel, I'm gonna burn your breakfast."

"You're not eating with me?"

"No, uh... Ellie wanted me to do a checkup, I guess. A physical for Maria so she can do more extensive patrols."

He stays silent, loosening his grip so Abigail could flip his eggs and finish his breakfast. His mind was wild with concern, and he wants to question Abigail, but that would be rude and crossing the line on his teetering relationship with Ellie.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure she okay."

She places the plate in front of him, pressing one last kiss upon his temple before leaving the house to his silent thoughts.

She found Ellie waiting in her office, her leg bouncing and her hands continuously wringing themselves out of anxiety. Abigail placed a hand on her shoulder, a soft humming noise leaving her throat in hopes to calm the young woman.

It doesn't work.

"Why'd you leave the fireflies?" Abigail barely had time to set her bag down when Ellie sprung the question into the air. She thinks back to her tone in Salt Lake, the research that she tried to debunk and help with only to get shut down in the name of so called 'science'.

"Why does it matter?"

"You rode with Tommy back then." Her back straightens as Ellie keeps talking.

"I did." Her response was slow, almost unsure but this wasn’t anything new. Ellie’s known this for years.

"Can I tell you something?" Abigail finally sits in her chair, leaning forward on her knees to show her attention to Ellie. "I'm immune."

They sit in silence, Abigail staring with a dumbfounded look before she sighs and gets up to make herself a drink.

"Ellie –,"

"I was bit when I was 13, and I never turned. Joel was to take me to the fireflies to create a vaccine and he lied to me."

"Ellie, please –,"

"Can you make a vaccine?"

"Ellie!" Abigail snapped, slamming her mug in the table, her voice echoing through the hall. "Listen to me when I tell you this and listen well: my time with the fireflies is over, and the research I've done has been burned a long time ago. You are not immune, because for you to be immune it would take far too many factors and you present none of these factors that I remember from my hypothesis. So, _drop it_."

Ellie leaves before Abigail could even start her work.

.-.-.

Walking into the house with the fresh smell of roasting rabbit, and the sound of Fleetwood Mac from the record player, she knows she's in for a treat.

She unloads her stuff at the door; first her gun, then her coat and boots, then her bag before she makes her way towards the smell that radiates a sense of home.

Joel stands over the stove, the sizzle of butter and garlic catch her ears as he throws sprigs of rosemary into the hot pan, "Who knew you could cook." she hums, as she starts to set the two-person table in the corner of the kitchen – purely out of habit. "What's the occasion?"

He's quiet, a usual thing when he's got a surprise for her - good or bad. "Tommy an' I and a group of other guys are gonna go take care of the hunters that have been attacking us up north." she shoulders stiffen before she sighs and continues to set the table.

"When do you guys head out?" they keep their backs to each other, not wanting to see the somber looks

"A few days."

"Okay, I'll have some kits set up for the group before you leave."

 _Dreams_ started to play, the scratching filter of the record player giving a classic feel as she hums along to the tune.

"How was –," he cleared his throat as he pulled the pan of roast vegetables from the oven, "How was Ellie." She sighs and he chuckles, "That bad?"

"She told me something weird and I don't know how to feel about it."

"What did she say?" he was serving himself a portion of vegetables, then a cut of cooked meat.

"She told me she was immune, and she pushed the idea of me making a vaccine and my time with the fireflies." The clatter of Joel's fork pulled her from looking down at her empty plate. He had a deep scowl along his face, something she's rarely on the other side of.

"What did you tell her?"

"Joel, It's probably something she and her friends are joking about or... Something."

"Abigail, what did you tell her."

"Why does it matter what I told her, it's not real. It was a farce that the fireflies created to grow their ranks."

" _Abigail_." she flinched at his snap, a deep sigh leaving her nose before she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I told her to drop it, and to never talk about it again. It's not a thing, Joel, so why does it matter what I tell her." he stays quiet, looking down at his meal, which grew cold by the second.

"I'm not hungry anymore."

She leaves him in silence, and just like her, his appetite dissipates under the weight of stress and worry. He cleans up the table, setting up everything for later knowing full well her appetite will hit her once everything settles. Joel can already hear her shuffling around in the living room, reaching for one of her books and settling herself in the love seat with a throw over her legs.

He knows better than to talk to her when she pulls a book from the shelves – usually a sign of _don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, don’t touch me_ – but his heart softly aches when he feels her huff as he makes his way to start up a movie on the TV.

“Listen –,” she lets a heavy sigh show her mood, and Joel can only rub his eyes with his index and thumb.

“Joel, just…” her book is placed delicately along the coffee table in front of her before looking up at the man. “shut up.”

“She’s not lying.”

“Excuse me?” she looks incredulous, confused, doubtful, but he keeps talking.

“I was a few years back.”

“Jesus _Christ_.” She gets up, paces the living room, “Is this some kind of joke that you got pulled into?”

“Just _listen_ –,”

“ _Why_? You think the fireflies actually know what they were doing? I may have learned from the best surgeon that Fireflies had, but he was _obsessed_ with the wrong concept. He wanted his hypothesis to be a damn theory but when I challenged him, he called me wrong. You can’t create a damn vaccine from a fungus.”

He grows silent in his chair, just staring at her as she continued to pace. Her words repeat over and over in his head, _you can’t create a vaccine from a fungus_.

“Could you create a vaccine from someone who was immune?”

“ _Holy fuck,_ Joel, I don’t know!” he stands up then, walking over to her with his hands out. She swats them away.

“She’s not lying.”

“She’s _not_ immune.”

“I’ve seen her breath enough spores to kill a grown elephant.”

“ _Jesus Christ._ ” She feels cornered and far too crowded by the one man she shares a home with, pushing her way past Joel and stomping through the door without another word.

The walk to her office is a long one, filled with the same thoughts that she worked so hard to throw away. To create a vaccine – in this day and age – would take far too long that it would take a generation to create.

But even she knew that it was a possibility.

She rummaged through her filing cabinet, a worn, thick manila folder with a scribbled label _‘CORDYCEPS INFECTION RESEARCH’_ caught her eyes and, with little hesitation, she pulled the file from its hiding spot and flipped through the pages.

Abigail sits at her desk for hours, a small light being the only thing that lights her work area as she goes over her research once more.

“It doesn’t make any sense…” there’s a knock that jolts her out of her work, and she grumbles when all she see’s is a dimly lit Joel in her doorway.

“It’s almost two in the mornin’.”

“I know.”

“You an’ I were supposed to go fishin’.”

“Joel –,”

“Look, I’m sorry I snapped at ya at dinner.” He walks over, sitting in the chair across from her. “And I’m sorry for causing –,”

“Is she _really_ immune?” his breath hitches when she asks him with conviction in her voice. She wants the truth, and after re-reading the only files she had from her times as a young firefly, she’s starting to think that the words that left Ellie and Joel’s mouths was the truth.

“Yes.” His confession is quiet, a silent sin that he seemed to bare on his own.

“Who else knows, besides you and me?”

“Tommy and Maria.” There’s that heavy sigh again, the one that leaves her nose in such a moody way.

There’s a heavy silence that sits between them, Joel knowing full well that Abigail has her questions, but the first thing she says isn’t something he wants to hear.

“Ellie said you lied to her.”

“I did.”

“About what?”

“I –,” he holds his breath, looking down at his hands before looking at Abigail. This one thing could ruin them, ruin everything they’ve built over the last two and a half years. “I _saved_ her from the fireflies. They were gonna kill her for a vaccine.”

She leans back in her chair, running her hand over her face before throwing her old research back in the worn manila folder.

“Let’s go home.”

She shut off her light and walked out of her office, and Joel followed.

.-.-.

_Winter 2034_

_“So, what did you do before the outbreak?” Ellie asked, her hands clutching at the warm mug of hot chocolate – a rare delicacy – that Abigail made for her._

_“I was freshly graduated from high school just about to go to college down in Southern California.” Abigail sipped her tea, “They considered my a rather talented child – I was sixteen just about to turn seventeen – when the whole world went to shit.”_

_“What were you gonna go to school for?”_

_“Medicine.”_

_“Where’d you learn all the things you know?”_

_“Ellie, stop pesterin’ her.” Joel called out and Abigail could only laugh, sipping her beer._

_“She’s only curious, I don’t mind.” She turned back to Ellie with a sweet smile, “A few months after the outbreak, I managed to get my family to the safety of the fireflies. I asked about what it would take to learn about medicine, and well…” Tommy eyed her, and she only shrugged. “Marlene had given me a chance to learn under this one doctor who claimed he had a hypothesis of a –,”_

_“A hypothesis?”_

_“An idea made on the basis of limited evidence.” Ellie laughed._

_“You’re incredibly smart.”_

_“Not really, it’s all memory. Anyways – I learned under him up until… oh jeez… what was it, Tommy? 2029?” he chuckled, nodding his head even though he seemed uncomfortable enough being a part of this conversation._

_“Yeah, something like that.”_

_“Why’d you leave?”_

_“Ellie –.”_

_“Because I told my mentor that his hypothesis was all wrong, and he didn’t allow me to do my work anymore.” She took another swig of her beer, humming at the memories of packing her bags in the middle of the night to prepare for the trek in the morning. “So, when I found out that Tommy was planning on leaving the Fireflies, I left with him. Been here ever since.” Ellie fawned over Abigail, continuing to ask her question after question as Tommy and Joel caught up._

_“She sure is a curious one.”_

_“Don’t I know it.”_

* * *

**SPRING 2038**

“You’ve been avoiding Callie for _weeks_ now, what’s going on, Abby?”

Abby scoffs into her cup as she sits next to Manny in the Dining Hall, her pasta growing cold from her lack of hunger. “It’s nothing, Manny.”

“She asked about you the other day.”

“And?”

“Jesus, Abby. You were all over that girl and then decided that you didn’t like her anymore overnight.” Manny kept his voice quiet, his annoyance straining through his teeth.

“I –,”

“You need to talk to her.”

“Since when were you so good at relationship advice?”

“Since I saw how happy she made your useless ass.” She snorts, almost indignant but she still looks down at her food with a somber look. “Just _talk_ to her. It won’t kill you.”

He leaves after that, saying he wants to check up on his father before going out on his normal patrols. She allows him to leave, and she allows herself to think about Caroline.

Things had been… rough, to say the least. Abby was having a hard time sleeping in the same bed as Caroline, the nightmares that plagued her kept her from waking up restful. The soft touches and delicate kisses that Caroline would leave along her skin during those nights they would spend together left her feeling heavy with uncertainty.

Abby’s rough around the edges; with a deep-seated anger that clutched at her bones and left no room for anything else.

So, when she heard Caroline whisper words of love and adoration into her ear – after nearly six months being with each other – Abby bolted; with no words left in her wake. She knew it would have left her devastated and angry, but Abby was feeling it too. The loneliness, and sleepless night, the chill that seemed to fill her side.

Caroline was on slaughter duty, dressing the animals and throwing the skins towards those who can tan them and use them for rugs and blankets.

Abby pushes herself from her spot at the pullout tables, slowly making strides to Caroline as she hacks away at lamb hocks and skillfully cuts the tender rib meat from the spine of the animal.

“Callie.” she watches as Caroline hesitates a cut, her shoulders tensing before she shakes her head and goes back to her butchering. “Callie, look at me.”

“If you don’t plan on getting a cut of meat, you should leave.”

“Caroline.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Please, Callie –,” Caroline slams her knife on the table, her nose flared from anger as she stared down at her hands.

“You _broke_ my _heart_ , Abigail.”

“Can you let me explain.”

“Why? So I can listen to you give me an excuse and pretend it makes it all better?”

“I made a mistake.”

“It’s not my job to fix that.”

“I shouldn’t have left you without a word.”

“I gave you a lot of myself, Abs.” Caroline started to rip off her apron when the man came over to cover the rest of her shift, but he stood off to the side awkwardly even as she shoved the dirty apron into his arms. “I told you secrets no one even knows.”

Abby watched Caroline leave, her arms wiping away the tears that welled and spilled over her lashes.

She tried to follow, calling for her in a soft yet annoyed voice only for her to grow frustrated enough to catch her by her arm and yank her enough to rattle her brain against her skull.

“Just fucking _stop_.”

“Let go of me, Abby.” Her voice is low, a threat that settled deep in her belly and caused her fists to clench.

“Can you let me speak?”

“No, because I don’t want to fucking hear it.” Her voice cracks, and she covers her mouth with the back of her hand to smother a sob. “You _constantly_ give me excuses. Every meal together, every night spent together, every morning after if you hyper fixated on this _one thing_ and you would rather focus on a goal that is practically unachievable instead of have something right in front of you.”

“You don’t know anything, Caroline.”

“It ruined your relationship with Owen, I’m not surprised it ruined our relationship.” Abby growls, pushing her against the wall. The hallway was quiet, and dimly lit with cold air brushing over their bare skin. Caroline shakes but her eyes show a ferocity that could kill a thousand men.

“You don’t know anything, Callie.”

“Because you _never_ tell me _anything._ ” She seethes, pushing on Abby, but she didn’t budge. “I loved you. _Fuck,_ I still love you and you left me feeling used.”

Abby pressed Caroline deeper into the wall, the scowls they shared could cause sparks and set wildfires. The heat between their bodies was stifling, unbearable, harsh. Caroline fisted Abby’s worn muscle tee, tugging softly just to get something to ground herself as Abby digs her fingers into her arms, leaving barely there bruises.

“Callie.” Her voice held such conviction, something that was rare for the woman. Caroline continued to let the silent tears fall from her cheeks and drip from her chin until a sob cracked through the halls. The echo was deafening to Abby, knowing full well that Caroline barely cried over anything.

And this time, she was at fault.

“I miss you, Abby.” It was barely a whisper, and Abby could mistake it for the wind.

There was something in Abby that snapped, watching the way Caroline fought with her conflictions of feelings for her. It was hard to see her this way, to watch her cry over the fact that Abby had left her alone, filled with guilt and self-hatred.

She didn’t mean any of it.

But love was a strong thing to feel. Shit, even her and Owen barely ever said it to each other.

“I never said I didn’t.”

“Then why did you leave?” she was always so quick to respond, never calculating her responses and always letting her emotions control her reactions. “You left me in the middle of the night, went on patrol for a week, then took up assignments that took over your days. You avoided me, and yet you come at me like I did something wrong.”

This was frustrating; being the one cornering someone and feeling cornered in the end. She gritted her teeth, snarling at her with a feral look in her eyes but Caroline didn’t back down, baring her teeth as well.

It grows quiet again and Abby stares at the way she looks. She still smells like the buttering table, and blood stains were dried and splattered along her shirt and jeans. Her short hair was thrown back with a headband – something that Mel found for her when she was at the FOB – and she was wearing that _damn_ necklace.

It’s a small, silver pendant; something Abby brought back when she was in Downtown a few months back. It was a present for her birthday, a small sunflower pendant that held yellow gems that truly looked good along her skin.

Abby snaps right there, pressing her body against Caroline’s and nipping at her lips with need. Caroline whines, pulling at Abby’s shirt but still letting somber keens as Abby pressed her thigh into her core.

“I never said I didn’t love you.” Her voice was rough even as she pressed open mouth kisses along Caroline’s throat.

“Why did you leave?” her voice was broken – both from emotion and arousal – but it didn’t matter; she got her question across.

“I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Abs.” she lets out an ironic chuckle, softly pushing her shoulders, “Do you know how contradicting you sound?”

“Yeah.”

It stays like that; hot and heavy, as Caroline grinds her core against Abby’s thigh and Abby watches as Caroline loses herself under the power, she held over her in that moment. A sense of pride washed over her before she took in everything she was seeing; dusty freckles, dark eyes, smooth skin. Her body was perfect to her; even with the cellulite and the extra layer of fat that rolled when she slouched. Her voice spilled wonders from wise words to heavy moans. Caroline was everything.

She was her _everything_.

Abby pulls her thigh away from Caroline, pulling a needy whine from the smaller woman before engulfing her in a hug that hid her from the outside world.

“I’m sorry.”

They stayed like that, in comfort and in pain, knowing full well they’re gonna have to work on this if it’s what they both wanted.

.-.-.

_Winter 2034_

_The fall of snow in Seattle brought along more troubles than she remembered from the previous year. The lack of wild game that run through the hills, the freezing of the lakes and rivers around them and the chill snap that stunts the growth of crops that settled in the grassy part of the stadium. Caroline finds the Dining Hall staff rationing most of their perishables, despite the fact that it won’t last for the amount of time._

_“Hey, Manny –,” Caroline knocks on the door, opening it anyways. She finds it unlocked, and empty and she groans in disappointment and annoyance as she pushes her way farther into the room. “Dammit, Manny. You said you’d help me with this damn pro–,” Caroline stops when she see’s Abby laying along her bunk, her belly rising and sinking with each deep breath she takes._

_She was rather pretty like this – peacefully sleeping and without that scowl along her brow – and apart of her itched to run her hands over her cheekbone and over her brow, moving away the stray strands that fell from her nicely kept braid._

_Caroline didn’t realize she was doing just that until she saw the way Abby’s eyes fluttered open at the soft touch along her skin. She pulls back from Abby, as if her skin was a fire and she burned herself just from the enticement that lead her there._

_“What are you doin’ here?” her voice was still laced thick with sleep, and Caroline couldn’t help but feel terrible for waking her up._

_“I was looking for Manny.”_

_“He left a few hours ago for the FOB.” Caroline slumps, cursing under her breath with a defeated look._

_“He said he would help me with a project. I need help lifting some things.”_

_There was a slight pause before Caroline sighed and moves to get up and leave._

_“I can help.”_

_“Abs, go back to sleep. You need it.” She sits up, and Caroline watches as she stretches her shoulder and cracks her back._

_“Well, you woke me up so you’re stuck with me.”_

_“Abby–,”_

_“No, lead the way.”_

_Caroline couldn’t help but smile at her, a soft skip in her step as Abby follows close behind her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is okay, im literally writing without any kind of self made timeline or anything. I'm figuring this shit out as i go dude


	3. Jackson/Seattle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not exactly thrilled with the second half of this chapter but it's fine I guess.

**SUMMER 2038**

It had been a long time since she’d offer to take over patrol duty. She was skilled with a rifle, knew her way around hand to hand combat, she was lean and limber – despite her being up in years.

Her early forties weren’t treating her well.

She threw the saddle over the blue roan gelding – Dixon – adjusting the cinch strap and billet before attaching the breast collar. The gelding pawed in his stable, annoyed with the feeling of the cinch around his body but grew appeased as someone gave him a treat from the open door.

“You ready?”

Joel stood there, leaning against the stable door with his hands pressed against Dixon’s forelock. He looked handsome as ever, even with a thin sheen of sweat beading at his forehead and his disheveled hair that seemed to grow faster than her own.

“Almost. He gave me a hard time this morning.” Joel hummed, watching the way Abigail ran her hand through Dixon’s roached mane. The cut was fresh – probably the reason why it took her so long to tack him up – and his coat felt damp from under his fingers.

“We still gotta check out our guns.”

“I know, I just gotta throw on his bridle.” Joel merely chuckles, softly patting Dixon’s cheek before walking over to where his mare stood, tacked up and ready to go as Abigail pulled Dixon through and out into the open area leading to beyond the gate.

Jesse – a skilled young man that she remembers teaching the basics of first aid to – stood next to Ellie, talking away about the Summer Dance that was happening that Saturday. She looked rather content with her conversation, itching at the back of her neck and growing flustered when Jesse gave her a look.

Joel passed the reins to his horse to her, offering to grab her guns for her with quiet words as Maria walked over to address the groups of people that were scheduled for their patrols. Her voice brought along affirmation and confidence.

“Remember your patrols, don’t take unnecessary risks, and be back before sundown.”

Maria continued to stay behind, chatting with anyone who seemed to have any worries or concerns. Joel was already walking up, two rifles thrown over his shoulder and his revolver tucked away in front part of his waist band. She watched the way his shoulders tense and his biceps flex under his cotton shirt as he takes the reins and pulled himself into the saddle.

Abigail follows suit, pushing her heels down and prodding Dixon into a trot. He passes her a rifle, their knees knocking with each bounce.

They pushed their horses to a canter; Abigail following closely behind Joel as they ride up towards the northwest look out – something that Joel normally does with Tommy.

“How was your talk with Tommy?”

“It was alright.”

“How’s he feeling? I heard he had quiet a rough up, from what Jenny told me.” He sighs, pulling his mare to a walk. Abigail follows suit, pressing her horse close so their knees bump once more.

“He could be better, that run in with that hunter camp was almost enough to do us in.”

“Well, you have faith in each other. I’m just surprised you weren’t the one comin’ back with a bullet in your stomach.”

There was a silence that stretched over them like a veil; awkward but oddly comforting as the two continued up the brush covered path. The sound of the breeze pushing through the trees and the rustle of wildlife running through the forest leaves Abigail in a hazy ease that distracts her far too heavily.

“Abigail.” She snaps her head towards him, looking at the way his brows furrow and his shoulder hunch forward. “Did you hear what I said.”

“Sorry, I was…” she looks out towards the canyon and the slopes finally noticing the landmarks and realizing where they were. “Day dreaming, mostly.”

“Well, maybe save the day dreamin’ for the office.” A breathy laugh leaves her nose, as he motions her to follow on.

“Do you think we’ll encounter more of those hunters that ambushed you a few weeks back?”

“No, we had a group patrol come through the day after.”

“And the infected?”

He only hums, continues along the trail that leads up to the lookout in comfortable silence. The chirp of birds and rustling of leaves bring her back into her daydreams as she aimlessly follows close behind.

Maria had asked her to help with the preparations of the Summer Dance, something she tended to avoid because of the noise and the dancing. She’s always been one to prefer a quiet night in with a good book or a movie, but Maria wanted her to help Seth with the food despite the fact that she didn’t particularly want to work with or around Seth, not after last time.

It was gunshots that pulled her through her thoughts, her body curling downwards as Dixon spooked and spurred forward. He was still young – practically green – but he was known for standing his ground around anything.

 _Almost_ anything.

She tried to get him to halt, but with how his body spurred forward and snorted out of fear as Joel yelled after her.

“Keep your head down!”

Gunshots rang, and her head started to throb as she felt the muscular body under her moves with rabid fear until a shot whizzed and rang at Dixon’s feet. He skidded to a stop and with how she was leaned forward, she flew out of the saddle and against the rough ground. Blood seeped and oozed over her shoulder blade and down her back.

“I thought you cleared the hunter groups!” she snaps, pushing herself up with a grimace. Dixon had run off to Gods knows where, and Abigail simply winced and seethed as she pushed herself up and against a tree – hoping it would give her enough cover from the onslaught of gunfire.

“You think this is the _time_!” he sounds far away, but his voice echoes through the leaves and gunfire with a power that rattles through the earth. The clicking of his bolt action rifle and the recoil of her pistol mixed well with the sound of the hunters’ yells as bodies dropped and blood soaked the dirt.

“ _Yes_ , I do think it’s the time!”

A hunter shoots at the tree that she’d hiding behind; barely missing her skull by mere millimeters and leaving her gasping for air she didn’t know she needed. Her right ear rings, and she winces when she realizes that splinters had left their marks within her skin. Tears burn her eyes, but she blinks them away and turns past the tree to check if that enemy was still there.

A shot rings out and it grazes her shoulder, but she holds her own and aimlessly points her pistol in the direction of the underlying gunfire. She hears more yelling but its muffled and she wonders if it’s from the hunters or if its from Joel.

Someone grabs her by her forearm – something she panics about – but those hazel eyes and salt and pepper beard pull her from her anxieties. His thumb runs over the blood that beads along her cheek and temple, smearing it against her skin and his palm but they don’t care.

He speaks – soft and soothing words, she thinks – but her ear is still ringing, and her skull is still pounding.

“I messed up.” She says, maybe a little too loud with how he winces at your voice.

He wraps his arms under hers and she lets out a pained gasp but allows him to pull her from the cover of the tree and steadies her.

“Hey, _hey_.” She can hear his voice, thick with worry but that gruff, Texas accent keeps her smiling even through the pain.

“I’m okay, just some scrapes and bruises.”

Joel was always one to worry; after losing everything he once had only to gain some semblance of normalcy, any kind of danger that was thrown in his family’s way caused his spine to go rigid and his lips to curl in anger.

He presses his lips against her forehead – taking a moment too long to soak in her warmth – before ushering her softly towards his mare. His hand gripped at her thin coat at the small of her back, trying to find a way to keep himself grounded as he felt the blood that started to crust and stick to her shirt and skin. He was unsettled by the way the color of blood looked against her skin, reminds him far too much of the shit he’s seen.

“You think that’s the last of them?” she places a hand against the mares’ romp, listening to her paw and knicker as Joel calms her.

“Let’s hope so.” He pulls himself into the saddle before pulling Abigail up behind him. “Let’s just get to the watchtower then take you back to get you checked out.”

She holds onto the saddle, her hips swaying with the steady gait of the horse. Her shoulder burned and her body ached, but she tried to stay in a position that was comfortable, even as she rocked uncomfortably behind Joel.

“I don’t think I’m meant for patrols.” She jokes lightly, taking one hand from the saddle and gripping Joel’s shirt to stable herself. She feels him lean back into her touch, something he does often enough when it’s just the two of them.

Time passes easily within each other’s presences and the trot over to the watchtower allows the adrenaline to leave and be replaced with exhaustion that seemed to settle heavy in her bones. Fingers gripped the soft cotton shirt – the same one she had freshly washed a few nights before – a grimace pressing against his shoulder.

He leaves her on the back of the horse, tells her he’ll be quick with the sign-in and be back.

“It’ll only take a minute.”

And he holds his silent promise, climbing back down the broken stairs and taking heavy steps back to her.

He has something in his hand – a small box that she watches him shove into his pocket and a small, wrapped candy bar – but he barely notices the way she stares at him from above, with a curious look in her eyes.

“What do you have there, Mr. Miller?” he looks up, slightly startled that he got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do. “Is that a chocolate bar I see?”

“Oh,” he looks down at the candy before passing it to her as he pulls himself up and makes his way back to Jackson.

Back to home.

.-.-.

_Spring 2035_

_The music bustled through the bar, alcohol mixed with the feelings of nostalgia left most of the adults in the hold of good company and bellies filled with laughter._

_Abigail stood next to Maria, chatting her up about everything and nothing all at once. Abigail would prod about the idea of children with Tommy, Maria would bicker back about when Abigail would finally admit her feelings towards said man’s older brother._

_“Oh, c’mon, Maria. I asked you first.”_

_“I’m past my time in having kids. Besides,” she sips her glass of moonshine, chuckling into her cup, “we’ve talked about it and agreed that it wasn’t right. Now, you and Joel.”_

_If Maria could feel an eyeroll, Abigail’s would have punched her right in the face._

_“Maria –,”_

_“Ever since Tommy introduced you two –,”_

_“I wouldn’t call what he did an_ introduction _.”_

_“Abbie, that man is head over heels for you.”_

_“We’re just friends.” Abigail tries to laugh it off, but when she sees the way Maria takes another sip of her drink with her brows in her hair line, she scoffs in her direction._

_“What?” Maria chokes on her chuckle, which left Abigail to press her hand on the bar and stare at Maria. “What!?” she can’t help by smile with how childish the woman in front of her looks, with her lips pressed into a suppressed smile as they gossiped like schoolgirls. “What do you know, Maria?”_

_“There you two are.” Abigail turned and looked over her shoulder, watching the way Tommy passes her to press a sweet kiss on Maria’s lips. “You mind if I ask my wife for a dance?” his hand is already caressing her palm, both of them enjoying the warmth of each other and the alcohol that swirled in their bellies._

_“Feel free, she was only scolding me.” She shot Maria a joking look as the two of them walked off to join in the festivities._

_The stands there for a moment, enjoying the quiet moments that she had with herself when I hand is pressed along the small of her back. It’s warm and she can feel the persons fingers twitch with hesitation._

_“How’re you liking the party?” Joel’s voice echoes in her head, her heartrate thrums uncontrollably in her chest._

_God, she felt like she was in high school again with the way she reacted to his presences._

_“It’s alright. I’ve never been one for dancing, though.” She feels the way his chuckle vibrates through her skin as he leans against the bar next to her with his bottle in his hand._

_They stand in the comfort of each other, watching the way the young ones dance around with their echoing giggles and screams as they ran around the open area. The soft exhale of laughter escaped her when one of the little girls ran into her with rapid force, her belly filled giggles never ceasing as she apologized and ran back to her friends._

_“I guess they’re enjoying the warmth that spring brings.” He hums a response and she looks at him through the corner of her eye, still sipping slowly at her wine._

_They stand in silence once more as the music changes. It all felt cliché in the way the music slowed, and the couples swayed to the slow pace, and how Joel stood far too close to her for her to be calm._

_This was like Homecoming all over again._

_He taps her hand, slow yet deliberate and she looks at him as he smiles that soft, charming smile that leaves her breathless._

_“Since you’re not one to dance…” His voice is low, something meant for just the two of them. “Why don’t we go for a walk?” his suggestion is laced as a question more than a romantic command._

_She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, placing her half empty glass on the bar top, “Lead the way.”_

_The cricket chirps overtake the quiet howls of wolves that resonates with the moon above. They walked together – their shoulders bumping and their smiles mixing – enjoying their presences of each other._

_There’s sense of ease that hangs above them, and it leaves her feeling giddy with excitement. Her hand is placed between the crook of his elbow, his opposite hand pressed right over hers._

_Joel has to admit that the lack of conversation would normally make him feel out of place – he’s always felt like he’s_ had _to make conversation – but with the woman that was pressed close to his side, he felt like he didn’t need to._

_“I’m not gonna lie,” he perks at her voice, feeling the way her hand tightens around his bicep, “this is a lot better than dancing.” He chuckles at the calm confession, tapping his fingers along her wrist._

_The walk around Jackson was nice, filled with small chatter of wildlife beyond the walls. They continued to talk, growing comfortable with the warmth of each other before he pulled her over to an area that allowed them to sit along a bench and soak in the night._

_“How have you been? I feel like I should have asked that before we left the bar.” She looks over to him, before shifting so she’s facing him, with her shin pressed against his thigh as she leans closer to him. “I heard that you’ve been doing nonstop patrols lately.” He hums, and she melts just slightly at the soft rumble that came from his throat. Her mind brings up the idea of kissing him and blaming it on the alcohol, but she barely drank that glass of wine that she left behind._

_“Yeah, something about stragglers from the hoard that pushed through during the winter.” She straighten at that, the subject unknown to her ears._

_“I didn’t know that there was any stragglers. I thought we dealt with the hoard before the blizzard hit?”_

_“No,” he sighs, throwing an arm over the edge of the bench, “We thought that, but they’ve been comin’ down the mountain in troves.” He sounds tired, with his heavy sigh and his heavy eyes._

_Out of instinct – and pure uncertainty – she drags her hand from its place in her lap in places it over his hand that drapes so close to her. Her thumb grazes over the scars over his knuckle and the callouses over the edges of his palms._

_He would end up thinking up on that night when she asks him – barely three months later, and over her dining room table no less – why he never made a move that night, and when he’d make a move, if at all._

_Abigail was always so forward; knowing full well what she wanted._

_And so, he gave her what she wanted._

* * *

**SUMMER 2038**

The offer came out of nowhere, something that was sprung on her with such vulnerability and doubt. The sounds of Abby’s voice – something that would lull her to sleep most nights when she hummed or read her whatever book she was reading that night – was now causing a terrible ringing in her ears and the thumping of her heart in her throat.

 _“I’ve got a lead on Tommy._ ”

She remember Tommy, but only his face. He was always out on assignments or jobs that Marlene wanted him to finish while she stayed back with Abby and Owen and every other firefly that stayed back at the Salt Lake Outpost.

Abby continues to explain to her, with determination and excitement in her voice, and it _scares_ _the ever loving shit out of her_. The way her fingers twitch against her spine, the way she tangles and twirls her hair, even the way she presses excited little kisses on her forehead causes of fire of fear that burns deep in her belly.

So, Caroline sits up, disbelieving and confused. Things were going well, they were getting through shit, they talked and cried and agreed on things.

And now?

Now, all Abby wanted to do was find the man who killed her father – all of it based on the idea of just a name.

“Abby.” Her voice is quiet but it’s also firm. Caroline lets the aching pain she’s feeling in her gut push through her voice; she wants Abby to know what she’s feeling and thinking and hurting. “Are you really gonna do this?”

“He killed my father, Callie.” Her voice is firm, and quiet but there’s a tinge of anger in her voice. “I can’t let him get away with that.”

There’s a deep silence; something that has grown common when they start to argue like this. Caroline scoffs, pushing herself from the shared bed before walking over to grab her jeans and tank top.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I told you, I’m not gonna be put aside for revenge.” Her voice shakes, her lip quivers and when Abby reaches to rest her palms against her cheeks, she rips her head away and glares. “I have tries _so fucking hard_ to be the best I can be for you, and now it’s just –,” she wipes away a stray tear that drips down her cheek.

“Hey, hey…” Abby reaches out once more, stroking her cheekbone with her calloused thumbs. Caroline places her hands around forearms as best she can, biting her lip to keep the sobs in her throat.

“I get it, Abby I do. I _really_ do. He took my momma from me that day, too, but revenge won’t make you feel better.”

They stand there; Abby trying to keep Caroline from leaving and Caroline tries her best to talk Abby out of leaving.

Then Abby says it.

“Come with me.” She peppers kisses over her cheeks, her jaw, her temples, her nose, “He took family from you just like he did me. Come with me… please.”

“You know I won’t survive a minute outside these walls.”

“I’ll keep you safe.” She looks up at Abby, those hazel eyes holding so much determination and love and heart. “I promise.”

Rain pitter patters along the windows, wind blows harshly as the first rain of the summer hits them with retribution of warm weather. The heater in the corner and the heat that radiates from Abby’s partially naked form keeps Caroline from shivering but with the way Abby keeps tracing her thumbs over the freckles of her cheeks, she can’t help but gasp as a shiver runs through her spine.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll come with you.”

Abby presses her body against Caroline’s, peppering more kisses along her cheeks and neck only to drag her back to the shared bed. And when Abby falls back to sleep; Caroline stays awake with her head held to Abby’s chest with her thoughts running wild.

This is something Abby has always wanted; this revenge. Something was taken from her, and while Caroline can’t blame her for this want – _this need_ – to take a life for a life taken. Caroline was never one to take revenge – her mother taught her that revenge wasn’t made for people like them. She was a nurse before the Outbreak, she was there when Dr. Anderson was killed – she remembers the blood that soaked the linoleum floor, the cries that escaped Abby when she saw her fathers body, the way Caroline fell to her knees and gasped for air when she saw her mothers body pressed into the corner; limp and lifeless.

She flinched with Abby pressed her thumb against her, looking up with worried and apologetic eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“I was thinking about my momma.”

“Yeah?”

“My momma was a kind soul.” Abby’s fingers trailed small circles at her nap, and she hummed when goosebumps trailed her skin, “I remember being angry at my sister, and I told my mother I wanted to find her because she left us. I told her I wanted to drag her back home and make her pay for leaving us, that I wanted to kill her, and my momma comes in, with this sweet smile that she always has, and she tells me _‘the greatest revenge is compassion’_.”

“Do you believe that?” Caroline shrugs, burying her face into Abby’s chest.

“To some extent.”

“What would you do if you saw your sister again?” Caroline sighs at that, the idea having drifted I her mind time and time again. She played that idea from all angles; ones where she killed her sister, ones where her _sister_ killed her, ones where they hug it out and run away together.

But the one that keeps playing more than the others was when Caroline walks away. It’s her sister asking for forgiveness, begging for her to say something and all she does is walk away.

“I don’t know what I would do. I don’t think I’ll ever see her again – if she’s even _alive_.”

They lay like that for a bit longer, listening to the rain against the window that seems to bring a pale glow against their room. The heater provides a terrible amount of warmth but with how close she was to Abby; it didn’t matter too much. Nothing matter to Caroline, as long as she was safe within Abby’s arms and Abby kept coming home to her.

Because this was home.

 _She_ was home.

.-.-.

_Spring 2035_

_“All you gotta do is keep your elbows bent but keep a firm grip. Keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot.”_

_Caroline can barely focus with the weapon in her hand. Abby is pressed against her back, her hands holding the pistol in her hands gently positioning them. Their earmuffs bump from time to time and all Caroline can do is scrunch her nose and smile before Abby taps her shoulder and tells her to focus._

_“When you feel you’re ready, go ahead and pull the trigger.” Caroline took a breath in, then a breath out before pulling the trigger. The recoil was small but enough to cause her to squeeze her eyes close and stiffens her body._

_“That’s okay.” Abby pats her shoulder, encouraging her to raise the gun again, “Try again.”_

_They spend hours working on Caroline’s gunmanship, the flirty attitudes evident between the two women. Caroline finds it easier to handle the pistol as time goes on, something she’d have to thank Abby for later._

_The Mess Hall is always busy before curfew in put into place, and when dinner time rolls around, Abby would settle next to Manny and his father. Conversations fly by, and poor Abby is left in the dust as Manny’s father talks of the days before the outbreak. The times when Día de Muertos comes by and his wife – which he would talk on and on about – would make food and celebrate._

_Abby would sit there; confused of the conversation that surrounded her, but her eyes would find the back of Caroline’s back. She watched the woman work – watching the way she skins the deer from the hocks down to the games belly – and admiring the way her deft hands pulled at the from the bone._

_When Caroline turns to face the cafeteria, she noticed the way her brows furrowed deep and her lips press downwards in an angry pout that looked rather cute along her face –,_

_Abby saw the way Caroline snarled at the two men in front of her; a definite threat that bled from the smile lines and creases of her face. She saw the way Caroline tried to keep up the tough act, but it slipped just slightly when one of the men in front of her said something under the guise of his laughter._

_Abby reacted before she could process what she was planning on doing. Caroline looked bothered – almost scared – and she couldn’t handle the way her snarl turned into a thin-lipped scowl in hopes to hide her true emotions._

_“The hell is going on here?”_

_“Oh, Abby.” the first man – Devon, she thinks – smiles at her, placing a hand on her shoulder. He smells like alcohol, but he seems sober enough to talk without slurring. “Nothing much, we were just talking to Caroline.”_

_“They were just_ leaving _.” Caroline was adamant on that, her words seemingly pushed through her teeth._

 _“Oh, c’mon Callie,” the other man – Dillan, she’s sure of that one. – starts, but he sounds a lot drunker than the other man, “Let us_ fuck _the gay out of ya.”_

 _Abby reacted before she even_ thought _about it. Her fist land heavy on Dillan’s face, and within an instant, Manny is on her; pushing his way between her and Devon who was ready to throw a punch towards Abby._

_Others started to get involved, pulling Devon away from Abby and trying to get Dillan to stand on his own two feet to get him to the infirmary. Manny talks to Abby – more so lectures her – but all Abby can do is watch as Caroline throws her apron on the floor as she pushes her way through the doors into the back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it feels like I have no direction - you're right because I dont. I'm just writing what i feel makes sense and it's weird not having a sheet with some kind of timeline. But it's fun.  
> Also, if some of you are here from my RDR2 stuff, I want to let you guys know that I won't be posting on those for a while. I've found that the fandom is kinda claustrophobic for me to really get anything good out that please me. I might write up an Uncharted Story because I really want to do that (God Bless Sam Drake tbh) but I think I'm gonna finish this one out before I do that.


	4. Minerva/Athena

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a few months since I've shown my face. I have been sitting on this chapter for a while, and to be honest I am still not exactly happy with the product but I needed to get it out so I could move on to the next part. We're coming up on some good parts, or at least I think so.

**FALL 2038**

They celebrated the first day of fall on the last Saturday of September. The air was crisp and clean, and spirits were up before they had to prepare for the hoards that were bound to come through – as they always do during this time of the year.

Abigail’s hair was shorter these days; resting just past her collar bone, with shorter pieces that seemed to frame her face. She was growing more and more into a ‘western’ style with her worn in, Ariat square toes and her boot cut jeans that hugged her waist and hips.

She was dancing under the dimly lit area, a toddler in her arms as she twirls and skips to the song, laughing along with the soft giggles of the child. Alcohol buzzed in her body, giving her a confidence that she wouldn’t really have any other time.

Joel watched her from the bar, his beer in his hands and Tommy watching as the girl enjoys herself. “Now, how did you manage to find a beauty like that?”

“Shut up, Tommy.” But he chuckles, despite the snip in his voice. They sit and reminisce under the yellow glow and the floaty feeling before Tommy speaks up again.

“Have you asked her yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“You ever plan to?”

“Tommy.” Joel sighs, running his hands through his beard as the music starts to come to an end. He watches as Abigail takes the toddler back to his mother, before she makes her way back to the boys.

“Isn’t your wife trying to find you?” she jokes, pressing her hand on Joel’s bicep before leaning towards his body; her shins pressing against his and her toes tapping his.

“I feel like that’s your way of tellin’ me to get the hell outta here.” She laughs, and Joel knows that she’s had one too many glasses of wine with her friends.

“ _Maybe_ , but I did hear she was askin’ for you. Something about a keg, I think.” Tommy hums, nodding his head before tipping his bottle towards her.

“Well, I guess that’s my cue.” Tommy pats Joel on the shoulder, squeezing it with a raised brow, “Good luck with her.”

“ _Hey_ , I’m only tipsy.” The two of them chuckle, but Joel is the one that presses his hand on the small of her back, running his thump at a crease of her flannel.

“That’s my point.” He walks off, calling for Maria when he retreat to the back of the bar and Joel could only hum and press a chaste kiss on her forehead.

“What were you guys talking about?”

“How silly you looked shakin’ that child around.” She mocked offence, placing her hand on her chest and scoffing.

“I’ll have you know, I’m a _fantastic_ dancer.” He placed his bottle on the bar, and gently pressed her hands into his.

“Didn’t I teach you how to dance?” the song switched to a slower one as Joel started to pull her into the middle of the dance floor. He hums along to the tune, and she presses her ear to his chest to feel the rattle in his chest.

“This is nice.” Her arms are loose around his neck, deft fingers twirling the hair at his nape as he presses his hands at waist. They stay like this, and it’s nice because they both ignore the outside world for a little while and focus solely on each other. Their warmth, their bodies, and the way their hands press against skin and hair.

It’s nice and it’s peaceful and it’s incredibly _tempting_ for Joel to make a big scene then and there, but that wasn’t something she’d like to have happen.

Abigail wasn’t one to be the center of attention.

Unless, she had to be.

Her head raised from his shoulder, and she squinted over into the darker corner of the bar. He looked over, then back to her, “What’s goin’ on?”

“It might just be me…” she pulls away from him, and she motions him to stay put just in case. And, well, he does what he’s told because he trusts her. She walks away with such confidence, even though she’s had more alcohol in her system than he has.

Then it happens all too fast.

She saw something in the darkest corner of the room – something that was still hard for Joel to see – and when she had gotten there, she placed her hand on a man’s shoulder before saying something with such a force that would make most fall. But this guy is drunk, and taller than her and _bigger_ than her.

He pushes her and Abigail stumbles to the ground which caused Joel to take long strides over to the man and the other residents to look over at the commotion. Tommy and Maria start to file out from the storage room of the bar to see what the yelling was for, and when they saw Abigail pushing herself to her feet, they knew it was something bad.

“Get your hands off of her, can’t you see she’s _drunk_.” Abigail seethes as she goes to pull at the man’s arm again, and this time, she wasn’t so lucky to just be pushed.

His fist flies to her face and she yelps in surprise and pain, holding her nose and falling harshly to the wooden floors. Joel takes longer strides than before, his hips aching but he doesn’t care as he takes the man from the corner and throws him to the center of the room and into the light.

He’s a younger man, maybe a few or more years older than Ellie. He’s scowling at Joel and he goes to throw himself to his feet and to punch Joel, but he keeps him down with his heel in his shoulder.

“Joel.” Maria’s voice is stern, and mother-like as Tommy comes up to him with Jesse and a few more men to deal with perpetrator. “That’s enough, Joel. Why don’t you help Abbie to the infirmary, yeah?” it’s more of a command than a question as she digs her fingers into his shoulder.

Abigail is holding her nose as blood and tears drip from her face. He knows for a fact that she’ll end up with a bruise in the morning, so for now, he’ll dot and worry about Abigail.

“Well, that sucked.” Her voice is nasally, but she still has that humor in her belly as she allows him to pull her from the ground and walk her to the infirmary.

“He hit you good.” He chuckles as one of the nurses poked at her nose; checking for any broken pieces. “Well, it’s not broken.” The nurse says, her hands already working to grab her tools to set her nose. “But you’ll end up with one hell of a bruise in the morning.”

“Wonderful.” Joel chuckles once more as the nurse – Cynthia was her name – works on pressing thin bandages to her nose and cheek.

“Just make sure she doesn’t lay on her face.” Abigail huffs as Joel stands from his seat and extends his hand to her.

“Will do.”

She continues to grumble about the pain up until they get up to the house. She takes slow steps up the stairs, stretching her arms over her head as Joel opened the door for her.

His coat is abandoned on the coat rack along with his revolver and her Bersa. The small, velvet black box in his front pocket is starting to way heavy against his leg and he wrings his hands as he watches her lean against the kitchen island. She looks a little beat up and a bit tired, but she still has that glow about her that draws him to her.

“Abbie?”

“Hey, I was thinking of making some tea, want any?” he shakes his head, coming up and pressing his body to hers.

“No, I’m good.” He licks his lips and she presses her hands to his chest, a confused smile along her lips. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Does it have to do with that little black box in your bathroom drawer.”

“Marr – wait, what?” she laughs, tipping her head back and all he could do was stare, “How’d you know?”

“Now, hear me out –,” her laughter dies down as she pats his chest, “I was looking for a toothpick, and I saw it. Now, I never opened it.”

“But you can guess what it is.” She nods, biting her bottom lip.

“You know, I never thought you’d be the one to ask.” She laughs, pushing him away and walking over the laundry area, pulling a small, leather bag from the bin of cleaning supplies. “I always thought I’d be the one to ask first.”

“Well, I’ll be dammed.” She giggles, pressing the leather draw bag into his palm as he fishes out the velvet box from his pocket.

The rings are similar in every way; simple silver bands with rounded edges are held in their palms, a small smile presses against his lips as they slide the rings onto the others finger. It’s simple, and it’s easy and there’s no need to make a huge deal about it until someone makes it a huge deal – which would most likely be Maria or Tommy or _both_.

She peppers kisses onto his lips, and he growls against hers before he takes little time pulling the tucked flannel from her jeans and unbuttons it as quickly as he could. She whines, trying to work his buttoned shirt as well, before working on his belt; before grabbing at his neck and jaw and cheeks to kiss him harder; faster; deeper.

He wraps his arms around her waist, and her legs grip his hips as he takes them to the bed – _their bed_ – and throws her against the mattress. The springs creak under their bodies, clothes are thrown over the edge and all they can do is ravish the warmth of their skin, the scars that litter their bodies and the ways their moans rasp in each other’s ears.

He touches her with ghost like fingers, his lips pressing against her breast as his thigh is pressed against her core. Her whines spur him on, and all he can do is suck and nip at the soft flesh of her collarbone, marking her with a darkening hickey.

“I love you…” she rasps, arching into his touch as he runs his fingers through her folds, he grinds down against her thigh, a growl rumbling his belly.

“I know.” She laughs, throwing her head back before she feels his belly roll with a chuckle.

“You are _banned_ from those Star Wars movies.” He leans up, catching her lips with his as he pushes her farther into the bed, slowly moving to try not to bump her nose or cheek. His knees spread her thighs, and his chest is pressed against hers as he hides is face in the crook of her neck. His teeth nip at the juncture as he presses himself into her, sinking his teeth into her flesh as she cries out his name.

He mumbles small _‘I love you’_ s into her skin as he snaps his hips against her. Fingers dig into the soft, firm flesh of her ass and her nails dig and claw at the scars and muscle over his shoulders and ribs.

They grip and latch and bite at each other, hoping to find a way to get closer to the other – they want to feel more, and be more, and need more. He growls in her ear and she gasps and whines in his. Her cheek is pressed against his temple, her thighs rub against his hips than his ribs as he pushes her thighs to her chest.

Her back arches, her fingers dig into the sheets below them and her cunt pulses and contracts around him. He sits up, watching the way sweat drips down her chest and her neck and the way her face is scrunch up from the pleasure. Her neck and chest are littered with his marks, and he finds himself growing proud as he leans back down to nip and suck on her nipple.

She mumbles something, and it’s incoherent but he presses his ear to her lips and the only thing he hears spurs him to snap his hips and grip her thighs until they bruise.

_“I want a baby.”_

It was that; that one _thing_ that pushes him over the edge. That simple idea of domesticity, and her swollen belly that causes him to press his hips against hers, the feeling of his cock pulsing and spilling his seed in her causes her to whimper and gasp for air.

He chuckles at her, slowly lowering her legs and falling against her chest.

“Don’t you laugh at me, old man.”

“To think that you want a –,” she slaps his shoulder playfully, and he wraps his arms around her waist.

“It was a spur of the moment.”

They fall asleep like that, pressed chest to chest with limbs falling asleep under the weight of their bodies.

.-.-.

_Summer 2035_

_“You are an insufferable_ bastard _, Joel!”_

 _The door slams with more might then God himself and Joel actually_ flinches _at the sound. Reminds him far too much of a gunshot._

_He won’t lie, he doesn’t remember too much about what the argument was about; there was only rage and yelling and something about family._

_Oh, right…_

_She mentioned going out on her own, she wants to go back to Utah. Back to Salt Lake. Back to see if her family is still there._

_Abigail was a firefly._

_He wasn’t sure_ why _he was angry; in fact, he wasn’t angry – more so worried – but she was adamant on leaving on her own._

_He called her foolish for thinking she would make it on her own._

_She called him an ass for thinking that she wasn’t capable of taking care of herself._

_He said that she wasn’t._

_There was more in between those moments but he can only remember her biting words and his teeth bare at her aggression._

_And, well… he was reaping those consequences._

_He hovers; he knows he does. He does it with Ellie and when she goes on patrols. He (sort of) does it with Tommy when he knows he’s not thinking thoroughly. He does it with Abigail when he can’t control outcome of her patrols._

_Joel can’t seem to help it._

_Or maybe he can, and he just refuses to._

_He sits on the couch with a book, his reading glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose as the dim lamp in the corner illuminates the pages when he looks through the window and see’s the sun start to fall below the horizon of the mountain scape._

_Abigail still hasn’t returned – she stormed out in the early afternoon and now it was almost seven._

_He sighs, snapping his book shut and leaving it along the window seat of his living room and ventures out to the one place he knows he’ll find her._

_The Tipsy Bison is filled with the bustle of laughter, the smell of moonshine, and a humid warmth that comes almost characteristically with the place. He sees Seth working the bar and patrons nagging him for a refill they probably don’t need and won’t get._

_He sees Tommy in the corner, a cup of liquor in his hand as he talks to Abigail and Joel sees the way she furrows her brows out of sorrow and the way her lips turn into a deep frown. If one thing’s for sure to Joel, her poker face was terrible._

_He makes slow and steady steps towards the two, and when Tommy looks over without his usual greetings, he finds himself hesitating in his steps._

_Tommy meets him halfway, a hand on his shoulder, “If it’s any consolation, she’s not too drunk. I made sure.”_

_“Thanks, Tommy.”_

_“Good luck, she’s not happy with you.”_

_The first thing he sees is a mug of tea cradled in her hands; her lashes were slightly dewy and puffy from tears. Her nails tapped along the mug softly, her lips slightly parted with a sigh before she looks up at Joel. He slowly sits across from her, his elbows leaning against the wooden table._

_They don’t speak, they don’t look at each other, but there isn’t an air of animosity between them anymore. She holds strong, even as she hesitantly reaches for his hand with hers; even as her eyes soften at the sight of him._

_“Tommy told me not to go, talked some reason into me.”_

_“What did he say?” He tries not to push so hard, his thumb running over her knuckles as he holds her eyes._

_“He said –,” she clears her throat, pulling her gaze away from him and back down into her mug of tea. “– He told me that you and him went back to Utah. That the place was wiped clean.” She softly squeezes his fingers once; twice. “He told me that it looked like they were killed, or they moved on.”_

_He sits there in contemplation; a deep sense of confusion as to the lie that Tommy weaved to keep his own secret safe._

_Joel clears his throat, getting up from his place and nodding his head towards the door and she follows him without a word._

* * *

**FALL 2038**

They’re preparing to leave Washington now, knowing that the trip alone will take longer than it normally would. Abigail was adamant on her coming along, and a part of her _wanted_ this but there was something that swirled in her gut as she watched Abigail throw bags into the back of the Humvee they were allowed to take with them.

Caroline simply watched them pack everything within the one truck before Manny came up behind her and patted her on the shoulder, “You have nothing to be nervous about.”

“I have _a lot_ to be nervous about.” Caroline deadpanned, moving to grab a crate of rations and haul it towards the Humvee. “I’m not meant for this kind of world, but Abby asked me to come along. I didn’t have the heart to tell her no.” Manny chuckles, as he helps her push the crate farther into the bed.

“You got a soft spot for her.” She lets off an amused hum.

“I’m an open book, Manny.”

There was a need to talk – to open up about her worried and concerns about the situation at hand – but she finds herself choking on her tongue. Emotions tend to swirl there, but the words stick to the roof of her mouth and they leave a bitter taste.

The rest is a blur; the ride through the mountains and over old state borders is also a blur but all Caroline can do is look out the window as they drive as far as the jerry can’s take them. They slept in the car; drivers rotate every few hours and near the middle of the night it’s Caroline and Mel up sitting along the front watching as tree’s blur by. The sit in silence, Caroline relaxing in the drivers’ seat as she kept using the rearview mirror to look in the back every so often.

“How are you and Abby?”

Caroline almost chokes on her own saliva, but she manages to clear her throat and furrow her brows. Mel and Abby have been… rough around the edges when it comes to their friendship. With Owen and Mel together, there was an unsettling uncertainty when it came to those two.

In all honesty, Caroline stays out of it. It’s not her business; it’s not her relationship. She wasn’t sure if it was jealousy or insecurity or just general dislike, but Caroline can’t handle the awkward tension that stood between the three of them.

Caroline continues to watch the road, her left hand on the wheel and her right resting on her thigh, “We’re okay, maybe a little tense but it’s mostly because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to come along.”

“You didn’t want to come?” Mel sounded confused; incredulous and Caroline could only scowl at her.

“Did _you_?”

Mel stayed quiet for a moment before she spoke up again, “I didn’t, but this was something we all have to see through, I guess.” She didn’t sound so sure of herself, but all Caroline could do was let a sardonic hum reverberate through her throat.

“Doing this won’t bring back the dead.”

“He _took_ so much from us, Callie.”

“A lot of things have taken a lot from us, Melanie.” Caroline can’t hold back, her teeth drip with feral composition as she continued to focus on the road.

“If he didn’t kill Abby’s dad and your mom, we would still be –,”

“You don’t know that.”

“You’re missing the point.”

“Am I, though?”

Silence permeates through the air, and it’s far too thick for Caroline to deal with. She rolls down the window and huffs a soft sigh as she feels her cheeks flush against the chilled wind.

“If it weren’t for Abby, I wouldn’t be here.” Her words are quiet, but they are pushed from her lips and towards Mel with the rushing wind. “I’m here to support Abby.”

“Is that what you want?”

Caroline doesn’t answer.

Mel doesn’t push.

They continue the drive-in silence until sunrise. Manny and Jordan take over.

They cross over the Montana border, and then a few days later they drive right back over the Idaho border before they hit the run-down city of Victor, Idaho.

Caroline starts to get anxious. Something churns within her belly awkwardly as she takes a pack and tightens the straps along her shoulders. Abby checks her over, readjusting the straps that Caroline just checked and making sure the pack zippers won’t get caught on anything during the trek.

After six hours of hiking along the run-down interstate, Mel and Caroline are both in need of a break. Owen suggests them settling for the night in hopes of getting a proper rest in a real bed as him, Abby and Manny walk to clear out a small motel that sat in a dinky town on the edge of the road.

Mel tries – or looks to want to try – to connect Caroline, but all Caroline can do is give her close ended responses as they wait for a room to be made for all of them. Caroline simply sits herself against one of the abandoned cars that sat in the middle of the parking lot, her canteen pressed to her lips as she takes a quick swig before passing it to Mel.

“It isn’t what I want, by the way.” Mel looks at her, her fingers moving to grasp at the canteen. There’s several pops of muffled bullets that happen within the motel they stood outside off. “If it were up to me… I would have just left it behind.”

“So why come along?” Caroline sighs as she looks out towards the door of the motel, waiting – hoping for the three of them to safe.

“Because I love her.” The breeze picked up and there were a few more muffled pops coming from the motel, “And I didn’t want her to do this alone.”

The three of them finally trudge through the front doors of the motel, blood covering their hands and arms and coats. A tired look ghosting over their features but they still managed to make their way over to where the rest of them sat along the car.

“The motels clear and we managed to clean up some of the rooms.” Owens’ voice was soothing over the raging thought that rained in Caroline’s mind. Abby’s eye’s bored into Caroline as she walked over to her.

“You look gross.” Caroline couldn’t help but giggle as she pushed Abby’s shoulder before walking towards the entrance with everyone else.

Abby had cleaned out a room just for the two of them, a full bed sat against the wall with blankets covered in a thin layer of dust. The musty smell caused her nose to crinkle but she wasn’t going to turn down a bed to lay in.

There was something tense about the air around them; an awkward feeling that settled in their bellies as Caroline threw her bag onto the bed. Dust flitted and settled slowly as she kept her back towards Abby for a half a second too long.

“You’ve been tense the whole trip.” Abby’s voice was soft, but the way she pulls her coat off and throws her bag onto the bed shows a different set emotion.

“We haven’t had a chance to really take a break like this.”

The dust settles but the silence only seems to suffocate. Caroline turns around and watches as Abby tries to wipe off the dried blood from her hands with a damp rag. She’s rough with her skin; the harsh cloth scuffing against her flesh and leaving nothing but red in its wake.

“Abby –,” Caroline walks over to her, soft fingers gliding over hers as she takes over cleaning the blood from under Abby’s nails. “I’m worried about what we’re gonna find out there.”

Caroline doesn’t look at Abby, but she tries her best to connect with her. Fingers graze over bruised knuckles, a soft humming noise sounds from Caroline’s throat – a subtle song that her mother used to sing to her – and all Abby could do was look down at her with tired eyes.

There wasn’t anything spoken as Caroline threw the rag along the beat up dresser and looked up at Abby, a soft look gracing her features. Her stomach churned and tightened out of anxiety or nervousness – she wasn’t sure – but her burdening thoughts melted away when Abby pressed her lips against her own.

It’s soft, and sweet and the anxiety that bubbled in her belly was now replaced with fluttering butterflies that started to invade her lungs and press against her chest.

As soon as it started, it had ended and Abby’s forehead presses against her own before a soft puff of air pushes along her cheek.

“Things will be okay.” Caroline bites her lip, her fingers gripping at the soft, worn material of Abby’s shirt. “I promise.”

They hold each other that night; Caroline’s body pressed into Abby’s chest as she laid awake thinking of how close they are to ending this long nightmare.

.-.-.

_Summer 2035_

_To say that Caroline was giving Abby the silence treatment would be an absolute understatement._

_It was childish of her, really. A constant avoidance of the woman caused her to take a different route to the cafeteria every day for months, she would turn the other way at any glance of Abby turning the corner._

_Hell, even the insinuation of Abby in any given conversation caused her to scoff and leave whatever situation she was in._

_All in all, Abby hadn’t had a chance to talk to Caroline and it was starting to become insufferable._

_There wasn’t ever a chance to corner her – get her to talk to her about what happened that day a few months ago – and if there was anything more frustrating, it was the fact that everyone had the chance to talk to her expect for Abby._

_So, she waits._

_The cafeteria shuts down a half an hour before midnight, and those who work the nightshift usually prep for the breakfast shift that comes in around four a.m. Abby’s foot tapped along the concrete floor as she waits for Caroline to come out from the back._

_There was a weirdly heavy feeling of anxiety in her chest as she picked at her cuticles and chewed on her bottom lip. Fifteen minutes felt like an eternity and when Caroline took soft, tired steps out form the back of the kitchen and her apron thrown over her shoulder and a headband pushing back her short hair, Abby couldn’t help but take in the sight at how ethereal she looked – no matter how exhausted she might have seemed._

_“Callie.” She called out, and Abby had to hide her wince when Caroline stiffened and froze at the sound of her name echoing through the large area._

_“Abby.” She sounded breathless; exhausted but Abby couldn’t help but step towards her. “You should be in bed. It’s past curfew.”_

_“It’s fine.” Her boots echoed against the cold concrete, “I wanted to talk.”_

_“There’s nothing to talk about.”_

_“There’s_ plenty _to talk about.”_

_Caroline makes an indigent sound as she pushes past Abby._

_“I’m exhausted from work today, can’t this wait.”_

_“No, because you’ll just avoid me again.” Caroline groans but she stomps off all the same until Abby grabs at her arm and pulls her to a stop; edging her to look up._

_“What do you want, Abigail?” the way her name pushes from her tongue leaves a stinging feeling against her skin. Caroline was livid with her – she wasn’t sure why that was even a thing – but all she could do was huff._

_“I want to talk, but all you do is avoid me. You’ve done nothing but avoid me for months.” Caroline lets out a sardonic hum, rolling her eyes before she ties to pull her arm from Abby’s grip. “Why are you avoiding me?”_

_Caroline rips her arm from Abby’s hand, pointing a finger into her face and pushing herself into her bubble._

_“Why did you have to go and punch him like that?”_

_Oh, that’s what this was all about._

_“Are you talking about Dillan?”_

_“Who else would I be talking about!” Caroline started to pace; her arms thrown up in exasperation. “You punched him over something that he said.”_

_“He should have watched his mouth!”_

_“I don’t need you defending me, Abigail!”_

_There was a pause; a thick silence that settled between the two of them. Emotions were pouring our from tired eyes and clenched jaws but the only things that could be said in that moment were simple words that could be easily misconstrued._

_“I’m capable of taking care of myself, Abby. I don’t need you to always protect me.”_

_“I was just trying to help.” Caroline’s bottom lip wobbled, and Abby took a step towards her with her arms reaching out, but Caroline takes a step away._

_“I know you were, but I –,” Abby takes another step forward and Caroline doesn’t move; simply accepting gentle touches and soft caresses. “I don’t want to seem weak. I want to fight my own battles.”_

_Caroline sobs, the back of her hands wiping away at her tears before she pushes herself into Abby’s chest._

_“I don’t want to be seen as useless.”_

_Abby holds her then, her cheek pressed against her hair as listens to the girl she loves breaks in her arms._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna lie, as of late I haven't been too into the last of us - or this story - very much. I started an rp blog for Maria, I just binge played Death Stranding, and Uncharted and I have several stories planned out for them among other things. I have some stuff written out on my tumblr (which is the same name as the one here) that you can go and read if anyone is craving anything. But I know for a fact that I want to get back into writing this just be patient and I will be back in the game soon enough.   
> I want to thank literally everyone who has left a kudos, subscribed or bookmarked this story over the last few months that I have been inactive. You guys literally warm my heart and I'm so so sorry that I kind of went MIA. Hopefully I can move past this chapter and into better territory.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think? Because I hate myself ahhh  
> (oh also, i want to make it clear that I'm hella white even tho I am of Puerto Rican descent, and the original characters that I'm writing are considered to be of Puerto Rican descent/non-white/people of color. If you guys notices something that's not right or you have advice or some constructive criticism LET ME KNOW I WOULD LOVE TO WRITE THEM AS BEST I CAN!)


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